The Beautiful
by yeyavailability
Summary: Malik is obsessed with broken things. Ryou is the perfect candidate, but what to do when Bakura is in the way? -AU-
1. Voyeurism is bad for you

Pairing as of now is one sided Malik x Ryou—the warning is that it is going to change later. **Ryou and Bakura are brothers, as are Malik and Marik**.

Warnings: Alternate Universe (AU), stalking, incest

* * *

_When Malik dreamt of Egypt, the sand was only warm and felt soft and loving like his mother's touches before his father shattered her hands._

* * *

Prologue

* * *

"What's wrong?"

The sidewalk was bordered with the still-falling snow, its pathways icy and cold. Malik's face was pressed up against the glass of a window, shivering as the melted snow in his sneakers started to freeze.

"Ryou?"

They left him at the beginning of winter. Ishizu and the ghost of his brother, off to the light and warmth in Egypt again. Malik didn't mind; he would be able to stay up later, go out when the sun disappeared in some far away distance, and he would be hidden in the shadows, the only place that was safe. The only place none of them—

"Are you okay?"

—would be able to see him.

Inside the warmth of the house, Bakura was leaning worriedly over his brother, taking the younger one's hand in his own as he checked for bruises. Ryou sat on the couch in boredom, his stare lazy and uninterested at the television screen. This was a nightly routine—Bakura fussing over Ryou like the kind person everyone else knew he wasn't, and the latter letting it happen as if Bakura haven't already taken care of the bullies.

Malik's frost bitten hands clenched into fists.

Bakura's sigh was muffled through the window and its frost, but from watching his expression Malik could tell he was relieved.

_**I **__should be the one protecting him…_

Malik's breathing quickened, his breath making smudges of white against the glass of the window.

"…Good…"

Malik wanted to scream, to pound his fists against the wall and let them, let _him_ know that he was right there and watching, watching the way Ryou turned with a smile and Bakura leaned down. He wanted to break the glass and distract Bakura with the pieces so he could steal Ryou away…

"…I love you…"

Malik had been observing them for many nights. He knew what would happen, after Bakura found that once again, nothing was wrong.

The worst part was that it didn't change.

Ryou was smiling. "I love you too," he said simply, then leaned forward. Bakura's eyes closed and their lips met, and Malik didn't think for one second that they were brothers, just that Bakura was _kissing_ Ryou while Ryou was _his—_

"…Mmh…"

_Ryou._

Malik fists shook.

_Ryou, you betrayed—_

"Does that feel good?"

—_you __**betrayed**__ me…_

"...Mmn, Bakura…"

Malik knew Ryou was never his. He was Bakura's, he was Bakura's _brother_, and everything else that brotherly love and love itself could be. He was beautiful and fragile and broken, but Bakura was fixing him while Ryou would be perfect staying damaged and crying. Malik had been there when he cried about the wound on his shoulder and later the death of his father, his tears beautiful and pure in pain.

Bakura didn't appreciate that. Bakura tended to him and cared for him, couldn't he see that all he was doing was making him less beautiful? But Malik—Malik loved it like he treasured the bone fragments of his mother's hand. Malik would keep him and love him for what he was and forever will be, because he knows better than anyone else—especially _Bakura_—that a shatter to the body would never heal in time for life to end, much less one to the heart.

_I love you, Ryou…_

"…Bakura…I love you…"

Malik pushed himself off the window, turning to walk away. Bakura was the only reason Ryou was getting further away from perfection every day. It was Bakura…

Malik was still freezing when he went home. His knuckles were white when he turned on the heater—white from anger. His hands shook as he spun the knob, pushing it inwards in barely restrained rage.

_Bakura needs to go…_

A resounding click echoed around the room.

* * *

That last dramatic part? Malik broke the heater. Poor guy.

Had this plot rotting somewhere in my hidden folders for a while, finally had the inspiration to get it out.

I'm scared to use the beta system. Would anyone help me with this if you like where you think it's going?


	2. If you would hand me roses

_When Malik dreamt of the world, it was shattered and looked just like the stars.  
_

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Chapter One

* * *

Ryou's head was turned.

His head was turned to the babbling teacher like it was supposed to be. Bakura wasn't in this class…but Malik was, and Malik wanted nothing more than for Ryou to look at him. Ryou sat in front of him—if he could just twist his head slightly, show him that beautiful brush of his hair against the uniform over the muscles of his back…

Ryou had turned to his paper now, and Malik's jaw tightened. _Everyone else, everything else, but me…?_

When the bell rung, Malik had just completed his work. He had to stay in school, after all—do well and better than everyone else, impress him, make him proud…

It was Bakura who sat in front of him in the next class. Malik couldn't help but glare at his back, wondering why he didn't just skip a grade so he could leave him and Ryou alone. He was older by a few months, and smarter—Malik's teeth clenched the more he thought about it. If he could just reach that level, and further…Ryou would have to love him.

At lunch time, Malik thought over his plans. Should he befriend Ryou and go from there, or something else? His palms had always sweated as thoughts rushed through his head in a jumble, only from just _speaking_ to him. Could he get over that? He didn't think Ryou would like someone who was nervous. Nervousness didn't help Bakura through the bullies…

Suddenly, he stood up, walking over to a table in the corner of the cafeteria. "Beat him up," he hissed quietly, grabbing the collar of one student—tall, muscled, with a threatening face—who gulped and nodded quickly. Malik did not feel satisfaction from it.

"W-which kid…?"

Malik growled. _How __**stupid**__ can he be?_ He thought, despite knowing that he had never given any details. "The one with white hair," he growled, "the one who sits in front of me."

_In which class?_ Malik could tell the student wanted to ask, but he walked off to his own table to finish off his lunch before the question could be asked.

_There's only two people with white hair, you dimwit,_ he thought as he angrily tore through his sandwich, _and only one of them who is beautiful._

-

When Malik jumped in front of the punches, he was sure everything would be on his side from then on.

He kicked harshly at the bullies he had ordered to help, throwing strong punches in excitement and almost glee. Ryou was watching him from behind. Ryou would be grateful and happy and he would fall in love…

When the last bully fell, his mouth open and arms useless by his sides, Malik was breathing hard. "Are you alright, Ryou-san?" he asked breathily, trying to make his words sound less worn out.

There was no answer.

"…Ryou…?" Malik asked unsurely, turning—

There was nothing but a wall behind him.

Vaguely, he could hear footsteps in the distance—Ryou had run away. _Away_ from him and what'd he just done, just for his safety…

A growl covered the hitch in his throat. Malik ran after him.

-

"—I was so worried about you…"

Malik was breathing hard. He clutched the edge of the wall with white knuckles, watching the way Ryou leaned heavily on Bakura's shoulders, the way Bakura smiled…

"Sorry," Bakura was saying. "Let's go home now…"

Malik watched with wide eyes as the two left the school gates. Was that it? Had Ryou not realized, _ignored_ that Malik had _saved_ him, just because Bakura was late for their ritual walk home together? Just because Bakura wasn't standing at the entrance at the exact moment they have arranged, Ryou was so worried that he had ran around the school to look for him?

"_…I love you…Bakura…"_

When Malik ran home, he knew he had to do something, and quickly. Bakura had to get out of the picture. If winning Ryou's heart won't work…

Then physically, Bakura had to go.

* * *

Next chapter: Malik _is_ actually going to do something about it! Hurray!

I figured that if I worked on this every day I wouldn't lose inspiration for it like I did all my other fics. Hopefully it'll continue working that way.


	3. That quality I love

_When Malik dreamt of his mother, it was only of her touch.  
_

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Chapter Two

* * *

Bakura was sick that day.

His eyes were red-rimmed where they should be white, his hair matted on one side of his scalp. He was following behind Ryou, eyes blinking every few seconds as if to keep himself awake; Malik could barely believe his luck.

_Ryou…_

His heart was thumping in his chest. When the brothers parted ways, Malik trailed after Ryou to his first class.

_…I love you…_

He watched when Ryou sat down in front of him, his eyes full of worry.

_…And I'm the only one left that will._

-

Malik could not wait until after school. He knew that the evidence could point to him—though honestly, how many students were _not_ skipping?—but this was the only time to carry out his plan. He trailed Bakura to the next class, sitting down behind him. Bakura looked like he would collapse in his seat—but he stayed staring straight, trying to look strong.

_Good,_ Malik thought, _use your energy…_

When half the time had passed, Bakura's face was visibly flushed and red. His knuckles were white gripping his pen, and he seemed to have used so much strength shaking he did not have any left for anything else.

"Mr. Ishtar?"

Malik's head snapped upwards. The teacher was not even looking at him, scribbling text onto the boards. "Please read passage three eight four…"

With a quick glance to see what page Bakura had flipped to, Malik stood.

"_I'm sorry, _he was saying…"

-

The move wasn't quick. Malik had to push through students to get to Bakura's retreating form, hindered by the occasional teacher monitoring the halls. When he did manage to get to the other, Bakura had already turned a corner where less students were around.

His shoulders jolted when Malik grabbed his arm.

A wave of something akin to joy—some sick pleasure in having been able to scare Bakura, of all people—washed over Malik, and almost had to pause in his plan just to relish in it. It was a thrill he had never felt with watching Ryou through the windows or around some corners, just _waiting_ for Ryou to notice he was there—that, he had desperately wanted.

This fear—he _had_ it, right in his hands.

"Bakura-san," Malik said softly. His voice was sweet with an unwavering tinge of promise for damage, but through a hazy gaze and worse hearing, Bakura could not understand. "Let me bring you to the nurses' office…"

"I don't need to," Bakura mumbled, sounding not as reluctant as his words implied. Malik could feel the shadow of Bakura's body over the creases of his uniform, reaching from his feet to his upper back. His presence was strong and close, yet the strength of the grip of his hands was waning so quickly…

Malik's heart skipped a beat.

_…need to—lean on me—_

"…Who are you…?" Bakura was asking. Malik didn't answer, pulling him towards a stairway.

—_so weak…_

It wasn't the right set of stairs to the nurse's office. Bakura seemed to notice, frowning slightly behind him—Malik could _feel _every crease and pull of Bakura's skin, so close to him—"Do you know where you're going…? This isn't—"

Malik pushed Bakura down the stairsteps.

_…broken._

It was a short stairway. Bakura's arms reflexively curled to protect his body from damage, his form shrunk into some frail way of attempting to save himself until he hit the end. His cry—a weak, pathetic sound, torn out of his dry, sore throat—was cut like a blow to his mother's head had stopped her from screaming.

Malik was transfixed.

It was only when Malik dragged him down the rest of the steps that he remembered Ryou had ever existed.

-

Bakura was coughing against the wall of the janitor's closet.

If Malik looked closely, he could see the slight, convulsive quivers about his form—but he didn't, because he had felt it under his fingertips.

"..Why are you…?" Bakura gasped, his throat burning raw. "I don't…even know you…"

Malik had never told anyone of his feelings. He would stutter and blush and his heart would beat faster, trying to avoid the subject in any way he could. Lying was the only way he could solve it.

"I love Ryou," he said simply.

His breath stayed even.

"I'm—he's not—" Bakura rasped, coughing—"yours…"

Malik's hands stayed lax by his sides.

He had to force them into fists in order to throw a badly aimed punch at Bakura's face, and his skin was so incredibly _soft_, Malik felt he could tear it off with his hands. Bakura fell to his side, the rows of sweepers and mops collapsing beside him.

_"He's in a better place now, Ryou…" Bakura was saying, softly. Malik couldn't see his expression; his bangs had shadowed his eyes._

"Don't fucking lie to me," Malik snarled, looming above him. His heart skipped in excitement. "He's mine. Ryou is _mine_."

_The only thing Malik could tell was that he was crying, too._

Bakura gave a weak gasp of protest, a small scream caught in his throat when Malik's hands wrapped around it. He struggled feebly, unable to even speak his last words of claim over Ryou. _He's mine he's mine he's **mine**_, Malik firmly repeated in his mind, but suddenly he couldn't fathom who he was referring to.

When Malik's fingers tightened around Bakura's throat, his eyes grew wider, his body shaking uncontrollably. His fingers raked against Malik's hand in a pathetic display of resistance, his chocked gasps of breath slowly becoming more laboured. Malik's fingers were not high enough to suffocate him effectively or immediately, which was his original plan.

It was all too wonderful. Malik had to enjoy it slowly.

It felt lovelier to know that it was Bakura trembling beneath his hands; such a strong, intelligent, respectable figure. He smiled as he brushed against the pale, pale skin, leading up to silky white hair over Ryou's scared brown eyes -

_Broken, broken, broken._

Ryou had no mother. His sister was dead dead gone with her ashes, which his father would've taken with him to Egypt. Ryou only had Bakura, and Bakura only had Ryou in return.

_Broken..._

Malik smiled slowly—a genuine, joyful grin.

* * *

I had a flight scheduled for a few days later, but apparently my grandma is going to die in a week so I'm going tomorrow instead. Sorry if the middle of this sort of went weird, this was the only day I could get this up before I left.

Anyway, if anyone's confused about the middle part with the "he's in a better place now", referring to the first chapter, Malik was there when Bakura and Ryou received the news that their father died. He was talking about how Bakura couldn't understand the pain of loss, of agony to the heart, but he apparently forgot that Ryou's father is Bakura's father too.

Also. As you can tell, the pairing now is MalikxBakura. Is anyone disappointed by this development?


End file.
